A Shot in The Dark
by HistorianOfHell
Summary: Chapter Three redone...chapter four coming soon...fans of witty banter will be amused D
1. Prologue

Hello everyone! I added a prologue, I hope you enjoy it! I now have more time to work on my re-telling (sort-of...there will be differences P) of HoTU. So please, R&R and I will continue updating! I'll be making changes here and there on parts of the game I thought were boring and that would be less-than-exciting to read, so don't be surprised if things change a bit, mwahaha. Anyway, enjoy!

**Prologue: A Call to Arms**

It was dark as ink in the lavish room. Nothing had moved since its resident had left; the glass of wine from earlier in the day still sat on a short table near a tall four-posted bed. Not even dust had touched it. Suddenly, candles were lit in various ornate sconces on the wall. A fire burst to life instantly in a covered fireplace on the west side of the room, the carvings around it depicting a scene from Faerun's past flashing in the flames. It was a scene of mages and demons fighting to the death. The dark wooden door swung open and the black-haired Lord walked in comfortably, dressed in purple and blue silk robes and holding important-looking parchment scrolls bound together in his clenched fist. He sighed. It had been a difficult day, money had been spent, enemies had been made, and with the sudden and un-spoken disappearance of one of his good, and powerful friends, things had been visibly tense.

He threw the parchment on the table as he walked in and fell onto his bed. He was glad to be back to his home, back to his family. He assumed they were asleep, he always returned late after meetings and his wife must have fallen asleep in the room with the baby. He stood up, thinking that he should check on her and bring her back to bed. He pictured his wife, a hard-working priestess herself, asleep next to their youngest child. He smiled at the scene in his mind. It was his last thought.

* * *

She watched him from the darkness. She watched him move, set down his parchment, fall to the bed. She was standing a breath away from him and he knew nothing of her presence. The drow smiled as she reached for her dagger, the blood from the two children and the female already stuck to the piercing blade. In one swift movement the mage fell, the dagger making quick work of his life in the expert hands of the drow assassin. But the mage, being clever as he was, had set a spell on his robe, one that would cause his killer to be turned to stone if the steel of a dagger ever cut the soft silk. The blade flashed in the light as the drow began to freeze, realizing her mistake. The sequencer robe had done its job, the drow had frozen, her dagger piercing through the mage's back one last time as she froze solid, her red eyes glaring into nothing but the faces of carved monsters.

The magical fire suddenly flickered out and the room became dark again. Like a scene from the fireplace, the dead mage and the drow lied motionless in the gloom locked in battle; blood covering the ground like wine.

* * *

A few days later the remaining Lords of Waterdeep called for help. The swiftest horses and most powerful spells were used to summon a hero to fight the invisible menace of the drow to their source, deep in the dungeon of Undermountain. Their call was answered. Heroes from all over the Sword Coast poured in, most never even making it to the Yawning Portal before being accosted by thugs or thieves preying on poorly-equipped adventurers and their expensive wares.

Something had to be done, and soon. Or the consequences to the city would be irreparable…

* * *

Orela Vash took one of the many parchments from the distressed messenger and handed it to her raven, who quickly placed it into the warn bag of holding at her side. She knew she was running again, but she also knew she was doing something good. Waterdeep needed help with drow. And after shadows…Orela could handle drow. She fingered the warm relic in her pocket, smooth and flawless, like bone. No…she was far from being done with her adventures. 


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter one: The Traveler**

The fire was burning out. Embers flashed and flickered in the darkness, slowly suffocating in the moist air. I pulled my hair back, wrapping my thick cloak around my hunched form. I picked at a few loose pieces fraying off of my worn leather doublet. It was going to rain, I knew it, the dark sky and moist air was just right—not to mention the thunder I could hear crashing in the distance.

I was camped on a small path in the woods, surrounded by dense brush and ancient trees. There was the chance of a wandering merchant or traveler passing by, but that didn't bother me. I was comfortable for the most part and I had created enough light in the camp to see any intruders. My bed roll was still dry and my bag of holding still had plenty of food within its dark depths. I was safe, full, and happy. A snort echoed into the darkness coming from a large lump across from me. I looked over to my traveling companion I had just met the day before, who lay quite asleep and boulder-like in appearance. He was in need of one who knew any Art, and I was in need of one who bashed skulls in for pleasure. Thus, we teamed up on our way out of the forest. He seemed a reputable enough man, a Barbarian from the South. Though he did not mention _why_ he was traveling through the forest in the first place, neither did I.

My eyes were beginning to feel heavy. I had traveled far that day and I was still making good time if I were to ever reach my destination. A familiar "caw" echoed from behind me. The raven hopped to my arm and nuzzled me gently with its ebony beak. I smiled at my familiar, Morrigan, or Mor for short, and handed him a dried piece of meat from my bag. He gargled and cawed as he ate the morsel hungrily, his intelligent eyes flashing. He was right, I was on watch and had to stay awake. I ate a few pieces of the salty meat myself, hoping that the little bit of food would give me energy.

"Is that all I get?" he asked humorously in his hoarse voice. I laughed softly as not to wake up our traveling companion, but turned to Mor and smiled.

"I'm afraid so. We'll be to the city soon." I scratched his soft head absently.

"Very well. Though I saw you eat at least two pieces just moments ago, and—" I placed a finger on his beak and he looked up at me indignantly.

"Mor?" I whispered.

"Mmmfh?"

"Let's not wake up our kind friend, or I will have to send you as bait the next time we are in a battle," I said. I was mostly joking, but either way, Mor drooped his head slightly in defeat. My finger moved away from his beak.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to be bait anyway," he added, fluffing his feathers and hopping to a log next to me.

"And why is that?"

"Because it seems our friend has run off." I stood up instantly, my hands gesturing to cast a more powerful light spell around us as Mor took off into a tree. The Shadows were thick, I saw them watching us harmlessly, but I did not see the barbarian. The only light other than mine was from a few feeble stars above us. I didn't even see any footprints. _How could someone so large move so silently?_ I thought to myself. But it was too late. I saw the blade appear at my throat as soon as I felt the man's warm breath on my neck. Invisibility potion, that's how. I cursed under my breath at my own stupidity and held perfectly still, the cold steel pressed dangerously close to my neck as I took in a sharp breath.

It began to rain.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two: The Red Wizard**

"Orela Vash?" the gruff voice rumbled in my ears. But there was something strange about it; I could sense something in it when it was so close to me, something unnatural.

"That is my name," I said curtly, trying not to speak and entice the blade any further into my flesh. I felt the muscular arm of the barbarian shrink, very slowly, as it tightened its grip on my neck. I watched the red robe form on the arm that wielded the dagger as the rain drenched my already warn clothes. My blood began to boil at the sight of the crimson cloth. It was a polymorph spell.

"Of course," I hissed. "You disguised yourself as a barbarian from the South. You knew I would never believe that a man from Rashamen would be one of you."

"I did." That voice. That drawling, oily voice of the Red Wizard from my past. He had found me, after all these years of running from the Zhentarim, he had found me.

"How did you—?" I asked softly, getting cut off half way from the pain in my neck, the water drenching us in the dark. The wizard laughed, pulling the blade inward and letting a few drops of my blood mingle with the rain.

"Floating cities do not fall from the sky on their own, young lady," he whispered. "Not to mention your epic tale was poorly written." I cursed Deekin under my breath. I missed the foolish Kobold, truth be told, but I knew that his "Epic Tale" was going to get me in more trouble than it was worth.

"I will not help the Zhentarim again. Though I would MUCH rather die by the Feather of Truth."

"I will not kill you just—what?"

"Deekin sees you nasty man! And he has big army of people to defend Boss!" came a voice from the trees. The wizard laughed a high-pitched hiss that echoed into the forest.

"So the kobold lives," he muttered. "Then show yourself and this army you speak of!" The distraction was just long enough. The wizard would have very few protection spells because of the polymorph, and from how long he'd been in the form of the burly barbarian. And he hadn't seen me in years; I was a different person now, and more attuned to my true powers. I summoned the magic in my sequencer cloak, feeling the tingling sensation of the magic before it spread out from behind me. The cone of cold hit the wizard with enough force to throw us both back against the trees behind us, and luckily his dagger did not move. I quickly undid the clasp of my cloak, slipping underneath the frozen arm with the dagger and running back into my magical light. The Red Wizard was completely frozen.

"Thank the Gods for magical, unattractive clothing," I muttered, quickly casting a few holding spells on the frozen wizard as he began to thaw.

"Time to leave, Mor!" I yelled. The raven flew out of the tree he was hiding in, landing on the staff that I had just procured from my bottomless bag of holding. "Excellent Deekin voice by the way. I suppose you heard my signal then?" He nodded his ebony head, clearly proud of himself.

"The Feather of Truth! Aye, that's me. Though I thought that I lied more than told the truth?" He cawed.

"And that is the Irony in it, my friend," I muttered, packing up our few meager supplies and throwing them into my bag (pulling a few pieces of meat out to give to Mor for the excellent performance). I tied our wizard friend to a tree along the path just as the morning sun began to shine through the canopy.

"Off we go again, then," I said, checking my knots before starting down the path towards Waterdeep.

"Doom! Doom DOOM DOOM!" Mor shouted in his best Deekin voice, cocking his head at me mischievously as we continued down the path. I gave him a steely glare, arching one dark eyebrow and glaring at him with dark gray eyes. He stopped immediately and cawed a laugh.

"Ha! I am sorry Mistress Orela, I could not help myself. Though for a human you give a very frightening look. I think I may have wet myself."

"You're a bird, Mor. You wet yourself all the time, wherever you want," I scoffed. He looked at me from the end of my staff curiously, as if he'd never thought of it that way before, and fluffed himself into a black ball of feathers.

"Hmm, quite true. Though I do wonder what happened to our Kobold friend, speaking of incontinence…" he added softly.

"I do too, Mor. I do too."

The path widened before us; our way to Waterdeep was clear. The wizard would be out cold before the next night, when he would most likely return to the Zhentarim to tell them what a nasty person I had become. A ray of sun was shining on us as we walked, warming our spirits as well as ourselves. If we didn't gain enough of a fortune from Undermountain, we would undoubtedly find work in Waterdeep. They were calling for heroes, yes, but they were getting a mediocre sorceress and her loud-mouthed raven.


	4. Chapter Three

I changed this one around…mwahaha

**Chapter Three: Waterdeep**

"Bread! Fresh bread"

"Come get yer bottles, fer potions and oils or whatever ye fancy!"

"Treasures from afar! From balor eyes to miniature giant space hamsters!"

Mor peeked his head out of my bag of holding to laugh at the merchants calling along the main street of Waterdeep. He was occasionally making a fool of himself and craning his neck to see the wares close as we passed by (and of course guarding the belongings within from thieves). Indeed the city was all it was said to be. The dark beamed buildings lined with intricate scrolled metalwork, the stone keeps and mansions that stood like soldiers along the streets that crisscrossed through small, lush parks and burning forges were all too familiar. The poor rogues and wretches mingled with the dandy and elite, creating a dangerous mix of need and want in the minds of all. It was frightening and amazing all at once. I sighed softly as I ducked behind a horse-drawn carriage. Inside I could see a man and women in Waterdeep's finest, drinking from sparkling crystal glasses and kissing daintily on the lips after a few sips. I cringed and flattened myself against the wall of a butcher shop, the smell of death and flesh reeking from inside.

The merchants calling, the smell of warm bread and cooking meat, the heat of forges and the occasional over-dressed citizen were all something I had seen before; experienced before. I wrapped my brown cloak around me tightly, hiding under the layers of drab cloth.

"Like beetles glimmering in their shells," Mor whispered haughtily, peeking out again and pointing his beak at the carriage. I just pushed his tiny head lightly back into the bag, hearing him curse slightly as he got the hint. I continued down the street, avoiding merchant carts and wandering eyes as best I could. When I finally reached the docks, I could see the three chimneys of the inn I was looking for sending smoke into the quickly turning twilight sky. Mor cawed triumphantly and ducked back into my bag of holding as we approached the two story building. It was a sturdy inn with many long windows glimmering in the dying sun. Behind it was the edge of the city, a massive granite wall that the inn seemed almost half built in to. Outside of it was a rickety sign with the words "The Yawning Portal" painted on in loopy writing.

I walked up slowly, the door was wide open and warm smells of cooking food and bread flowed out into the cool air. But it was odd, the inside of the inn was almost as black as midnight.

"Hello? I'm looking for Durnan, and—"

A blast of hot wind flew out of the door, throwing me to my feet and breaking all the windows in the inn in one long, hurricane-force blast. Luckily I had enough magic resistance to not be affected by the gust of wind spell, but when I stood up, I didn't see the typical scene of a warm, welcoming inn.

Drow were attacking. The dark skinned elves were striking like panthers in the night at the patrons and heavily-armed warriors alike in the inn. There were less drow then others, but they were making quick work of everyone around them. I let my instincts take control as Mor flew from my bag of holding and into the high rafters to get a better advantage point. I let deep blue lightning form in my hands, feeling it running through my body as I summoned as much magic as I could. I had no specific spells; I was a sorceress, gifted with power and a will to wield it how I wished. I turned my gaze on the drow, fanning my hands out in front of me and sending tendrils of lightning towards as many far as it would reach, sending two to the ground and stunning another, giving a large half-orc warrior a chance to cut her down.

There were only two drow left, and I stood against the wall inside of the inn as the last were taken down by an elven priestess and a halfling rogue.

"Good Lady, we thank you for your timely entrance," said a stout voice. A man emerged from the crowd of bloody patrons and warriors, he seemed to be in his later years and in plain dress but his eyes held a mischievous glean that told of an adventurous soul. Though at the moment his face was grim and the short sword in his hand was smudged with various colors of dried blood. I nodded my thanks to him and yelped as Mor flew to my shoulder and nipped at my ear.

"OW! What is it you feathered fiend from the pits of—" In a split second I saw the drow materialize next to Durnan, and in that time I managed to grab the drow's shoulder and stun him with magic, giving enough time for Durnan to plunge his sword in the elf's gut. The drow slumped to the ground, its red eyes gazing upward in a blank stare as his blood oozed onto the wood floor. Durnan's eyes were wide and he sighed heavily.

"As you can see, we have a bit of a problem. I am the owner of this inn, call me Durnan. You are obviously a magic user of some talent…who are you?" he asked. I bowed slightly and Mor dropped his feathered head in respect.

"Orela Vash, good sir. I—"

"Ahhh, you're the one that poorly-written tome is about, are you not?" I nodded, having read the book myself, I knew it was poorly written, but it was indeed a good read.

"That kobold bard was in here earlier, hoping to find another story to write. It's a pity he followed another into Undermountain, I think you two could have made a nice sequel together!" Durnan walked over to a barrel and poured some ale into a flask, drinking deeply and shouting a few orders to those cleaning up the inn. He didn't noticing my look of utter shock and horror.

"Who…did Deekin go with?" I asked slowly. Mor cawed in disbelief.

"A paladin…the hero of Neverwinter, I believe.I think his name was Gareth—"

"SIR Gareth Tristram Evelann, at your ser—by the GODS it's you!"

I blanched. My skin turned five shades of white, finally settling on a sickly green. The booming voice sent me rocking back on my heels and staring at its source with a look of death.

"You're alive!" Mor took the words right from my mouth. Gar, SIR Gar, the bane of my existence, the Hero of Neverwinter. And the possible hero of Undrentide if he hadn't got "caught up" with a traveling gypsy right before I took the initiative to enter the city. I would have walked out right then, but a booming scratchy voice called out from behind the armored paladin's mass.

"BOSS!" Deekin ran up to me, arms outstretched and kobold face grinning broadly.

"Boss! Paladin man crazy! Deekin not want to go back in there with him! Deekin SO glad you here with nasty bird!" he latched onto my leg and smiled up at me with his overly-large brown orbs. Durnan turned to Gar and handed him a mug of ale.

"So you've cleared it out?" he asked, offering me some and looking disappointed as I turned it down. Gar nodded and took a long swig.

"Aye, the drow that came up here were the last of them. I've cleared all but the room Halaster is in. I was just coming up to get a few more healing potions from Thestha." He was just as I remembered him. A blonde haired, cheerful, clean shaven shining example of the Order he followed. Disgusting.

"You killed everything?" I muttered, emotionless. He just smiled and nodded his big head while squinting his green eyes, oblivious, as usual, to my tone of disapproval.

"Everything! Well, except this drow woman that's been following me around. But she seems harmless enough. I even threw some talking sword, evil, mind you, into a convenient patch of lava. Blasted thing wouldn't be quiet…and you know us paladins don't like things that you can't see howit thinks. Usually meansits evil."

"I don't even think that's true, and funny, I've never met a paladin that could think at all…" Mor muttered. I had to stifle a laugh, coughing in a noticeably false way instead.

I felt Deekin unlatch from my leg as he began writing the interaction between us with a long quill in a new tome-looking notebook, humming to himself.

"Well then, you both might be able to help us free Halaster. Tamsil!" Durnan shouted, a small brunet girl appeared from an upper floor holding a dagger. She quickly pocketed it when she saw that the drow were gone, but almost took it back out when she saw me glaring angrily at the armored menace.

"Oh no. No. I'm not traveling with him. Ever. He is…" I was interrupted.

"But, my lady, this is for the good of Waterdeep! If we work together our foes will surly be vanquished." He winked. I shuddered. He was right, and that made my blood boil even more. I came here to help the city, and that was what I was going to do.

"Get as many healing potions as you can find from Thestha and give them to these good people," Durnan told his daughter, who ran off cheerfully. He then looked at us skeptically and muttered, "By the looks of things, they'll need all the help they can get…"


End file.
